


the ghost of you (it keeps me awake)

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cabins, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 00:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: Another pack wanted her, wanted to claim something as rare as a banshee as their own.  They could fight that.  Her friendswereplanning to fight that.But they wanted her safe.  And since Derek also wanted Cora safe, she’d been relegated to protection detail, sequestering Lydia away at her old family cabin.





	the ghost of you (it keeps me awake)

“Are you really not going to talk to me at all?” 

Lydia didn’t turn to look at Cora. Instead, she crossed her arms over her middle and turned her head to look out of the passenger side window. Cora had scraped the ice away, leaving little hazy smears on the glass. Lydia could feel how cold the window was; it reached out from the glass, trying to leech the warmth from her skin, and she was glad that Cora had let the car warm up before picking her up. The heaters were on full blast, blowing hot air that ruffled stray strands of Lydia’s hair.

“Seriously?” Cora said after a moment. “This is gonna be a long drive. Are you really going to sulk the whole time?”

“I’m not sulking,” Lydia replied. “I’m…processing.”

“Looks painful.”

Lydia ran her tongue over her teeth, striving for patience. “And I’m irritated.” 

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Cora didn’t look away from the road as she dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Can you put some music on? Since you’re not feeling chatty.”

“Oh, because you’re usually _such_ a conversationalist,” Lydia sniped back, but took the phone. 

She connected Cora’s phone and scrolled through her music, stumbling on a road trip playlist. She clicked ‘shuffle’ and leaned back, looking out at the snow drifting down outside the car. The roads were mostly empty, but the visibility wasn’t great, Cora’s headlights barely slicing through the snow, so they were limited to a snail’s pace. Lydia closed her eyes and let the hot air and music wash over.

When she woke, they were on a mountain road and the snow was coming down even heavier. She squinted out at the blinding white and held her chilled hands to the heater. 

“We’re almost there,” Cora said. “It’s pretty remote.”

“I figured it would be. Werewolves.”

A small smile touched Cora’s lips. “Yeah, there is that. It was nice having a cabin far away from civilization, you know? We could just be ourselves. But mostly, it was just privacy. It’s relaxing and peaceful, which is what the family needed sometimes. Mom was big on family vacations. She built the cabin with her bare hands, pretty much. She was great at that stuff.”

Lydia smiled slightly. She remembered Talia Hale; she’d been pretty involved in the community. She’d been nice. Quiet, kinda reserved, but she’d always been sort of warm and steely at the same time. Lydia had never really spoken to her, but she knew her mom had known her well. She thought about Talia Hale building a cabin for her family, for her kids, and tried to imagine her own mom doing anything like that. She almost laughed out loud.

Lydia switched the music off as the car slowed even further. When Cora parked, silence fell like a blanket over them for a few minutes. Finally, Cora opened her door with a grating creak and Lydia tugged on her scarf and gloves before climbing out too. She closed the door and wrapped her arms around herself, looking up at the cabin.

“It’s…big,” she offered.

Cora grabbed their bags from the back seat and closed the door, shrugging slightly. “We had a lot of cousins. It kinda needed to be big.”

Lydia nodded, tucking her chin down into her scarf. The cabin was huge, yet it somehow didn’t look jarringly out of place, nestled in the trees and mountains, protected by snow and nature. It was all wood with picturesque touches, like the porch and boxes on the windows that once held flowers. 

Cora stood next to Lydia, gazing at the cabin. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” she murmured.

Lydia looked at her, watching as her breath plumed like smoke from her lips. “Has Derek…?” she started.

Cora shook her head and Lydia glanced back at the cabin. It had stood here all this time, all these years, untouched and undisturbed. Empty. Lydia looked at the dark windows, at the snow that had piled up, and her belly twisted into knots.

Cora shook her head slightly and strode to the steps. She kicked the snow off each one on her way up, the wood creaking under her boots. Lydia followed, careful not to slip, and stepped into the house behind Cora.

The inside was lighter than Lydia had guessed it would be; the windows let in lots of natural light. It was dusty, but it was nice; open and simply decorated, with warm, inviting wood and forest tones. Cora dumped the bags by the stairs, a cloud of dust swarming into the air, and turned to walk back out the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure you don’t freeze to death, if that’s okay with you, princess,” Cora replied, disappeared down the steps.

Lydia rolled her eyes and stepped into the main room. There was a huge fireplace made of stone and wood, above it a painting of the mountains and forest, a river slicing a path through the pine trees. Pictures were stacked across the mantel and other surfaces of the room, but she couldn’t really make out what they were of through the film of dust coating them. She didn’t want to disturb them. There was a book on the coffee table, a bookmark slotted halfway through, and a moth eaten sweater tossed over the back of the armchair. Seeing it all was like a punch to the gut; Lydia didn’t dare wonder how it made Cora feel.

She headed into the kitchen. It wasn’t big, but it was cozy; she opened a couple of cupboards until she found some cups. There was a stack of different colored mugs, each with a name on them. Derek’s was green, Cora’s blue, Laura’s red. There were more, names of cousins, Lydia assumed, and she reached around them until she found a plain white mug, figuring it was a safer option. 

She didn’t really expect the faucet to run after all this time, but after a few minutes of twisting and wrenching until the knob finally loosened and turned, water started rushing down into the sink. She quickly turned the faucet down to a trickle and rinsed the cup out until it was clean, then tried the water. It was fresh, cold and clean; she filled her cup again, gulped it down, then set the mug on the counter.

There was a porch extending from the back of the house. The kitchen door was locked, so Lydia headed back out through the front door and went all the way around, boots sinking into the thick layer of snow on the wood. 

The porch turned out to be more of a balcony, extending out a few feet over a drop. When Lydia looked over the railing, there was just air beneath her and far below, the tops of tall pine trees. A river snaked through them, frozen over and glistening in the pale winter sunlight. Snow capped mountains stood tall and eternal in the distance and everything seemed so still, so calm. It was breathtaking.

She heard the crunch of snow and pushed back from the railing, going back inside. Cora was in the main room, crouched in front of the fireplace. There was a stack of freshly cut logs beside her. She’d taken off her jacket and there was a light sheen of sweat on her face. 

“Did you just go do that?” Lydia asked, gesturing to the firewood.

Cora nodded. “There’s more outside,” she replied, glancing back at Lydia. “Derek taught me how to cut firewood when we were kids.”

“A child cutting firewood,” Lydia remarked dryly.

Cora shrugged. “Werewolves. We used to chase each other with axes, too.”

Lydia paused, narrowing her eyes. After a moment, Cora’s mouth twitched slightly at the corner, and Lydia pointed an accusing finger.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Yep. No need for axes, we had claws.”

Lydia decided not to comment on that. She watched as Cora cleaned out the fireplace and checked everything before building a fire. She lit it and warmth and golden light spilled into the room, instantly making it more cozy and welcoming. She peeled off her coat, scarf and gloves, setting then on the couch. 

Cora sprung to her feet, wiping off her hands. She turned. 

“You can sit, you know.”

“I just…don’t want to disturb anything,” Lydia replied, sitting down on the edge of the couch.

Cora was quiet for a moment. She sat down on the armchair, the leather creaking underneath her. “That was my mom’s,” she said, gesturing to the book. “It was her favorite thing to read on vacation, so she kept it here.” The _and she never got to finish it_ was unspoken.

“And this,” she said, pulling the sweater from behind her. “Was Laura’s. It was her favorite. She wore it the last time we were here as a family, and we were halfway home before she realized she’d left it behind. She nagged at mom to turn back so she could get it and obviously mom refused. Told her she could collect it next time we were here.”

Cora lifted the grey wool to her face, breathing in, eyes closed. “I thought it might smell of her still,” she murmured. “It doesn’t. Smells of wool and dust, mostly.”

There was muted sadness on Cora’s face, the kind that Lydia knew meant she was containing most of it, burying it inside rather than show that kind of vulnerability in front of someone else. Lydia’s heart ached for her, at the quiet strength she’d had to cultivate in order to deal with this kind of thing.

She hadn’t even thought about how this would affect Cora, coming to her family’s cabin, facing those memories and tragedies and losses all over again. 

Losing someone you loved was never just losing _them_. It was constantly losing the small pieces of them. It was finding the book they never finished, the mug they no longer drank from, the sweater that no longer smelled like them.

_The new boots she never got to wear_ , Lydia thought, thinking of the ankle boots in her closet, the ones she’d found in a bag with a receipt in Allison’s bedroom after the funeral. 

She looked over at Cora. Sometime between Lydia leaving for her final year at college and her coming back for winter break, Cora had chopped her hair short, into a style that finished just below her chin. It suited her. It showed off the cut of her jaw, the sharpness of her features that she’d grown into, no longer the angry, lost girl Lydia had met years ago. She was an adult now, with quiet strength in her body and muted fire in her dark eyes. There were so many things on the tip of Lydia’s tongue; she wanted to tell Cora that she was strong, that her perseverance was admirable, that Lydia was there if she needed to talk. 

She knew, though, that talking about it was the last thing Cora wanted, so instead she said, “I tried the faucet in the kitchen. We have running water.”

Cora nodded. “Derek made sure it’d be ready for us. Hot showers, I’ve got food in the car to bring in, and now we have firewood.”

Lydia watched the firelight play with the shadows on Cora’s face, making them dance across her cheekbones when she turned to look at her. After a long moment, Cora got to her feet, clasping her hands above her head and bending her spine to stretch. 

“Go ahead and grab a bedroom,” she said. “There’s plenty of them.”

“I don’t want to disturb anything.”

Cora gave her a long, considering look. “Don’t worry about it,” she said finally. “The only thing you’re disturbing here are ghosts.”

Lydia watched as she left the room, then listened to the creak of the stairs as Cora ascended them. She didn’t get up; instead, she dragged the old, patchwork throw off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders as she watched the fire.

Under any other circumstances, this would be peaceful. A beautiful cabin in the mountains surrounded by snow and nature and breathtaking views; it could even be considered romantic, considering it was just her and Cora. 

But she’d rather be at home, with the others, her friends and her pack. _Fighting_ , rather than running away and hiding. They’d faced so many threats together, it seemed wrong to hide from this. Another pack wanted her, wanted to claim something as rare as a banshee as their own. They could fight that. Her friends _were_ planning to fight that.

But they wanted her safe. And since Derek also wanted Cora safe, she’d been relegated to protection detail, sequestering Lydia away at her old family cabin. Lydia didn’t know how long they’d be here; she had college work and some books to keep her busy, but at some stage, she would need to head back to school. 

And the thought of the others facing this threat without her, _for_ her…it just felt all wrong.

It didn’t help that the cabin, despite its beauty, just felt full of sadness and memories. The atmosphere of the place made Lydia’s skin crawl and her belly feel hollow.   
Cora was right; there were only ghosts here.

When the fire had dwindled to embers, casting the room into darkness, Lydia got to her feet. It had gone dark hours ago and she didn’t know how long she had sat there, watching the flames dance in the hearth. Cora hadn’t come back downstairs and Lydia was tired more than hungry, but the thought of sleeping on the couch made her feel oddly exposed.

The curtains were open. She thought it wouldn’t make much distance here; the only thing peering in the large windows would be whatever animals called the forest home.

Somehow, that made her more uneasy than the thought of humans looking in. 

She yanked all of the curtains closed and checked the locks on the doors. Cora had left Lydia’s bag at the foot of the stairs and she picked it up before climbing them. The hallway was long and dark, doors lining each side, all closed. One at the end had a tiny strip of light spilling out from underneath it, so she at least knew where Cora was.  
She opened a door at random, fumbling for a light switch. The bedroom had obviously been a child’s room, decorated with teddy bear wallpaper and posters. A few toys and stuffed animals had been left behind and two bunk bed sets lined one wall. 

Lydia snapped the light off and quickly shut the door again. She walked all the way to the end of the hall, lifted her hand to Cora’s door, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to knock. Blowing out a breath, she opened the door to the room opposite Cora’s.

This one had a double bed and was decorated in the same warm, forest tones as the main room downstairs. It had a window seat and a small ensuite. Lydia dumped her bag on the floor and immediately closed the curtains. It was chilly up here, but an old fashioned radiator rattled away, blowing out warm air. She changed in front of it, relieved she’d packed her warmest pajamas. 

She used the bathroom, brushed her teeth and tied her hair back, then climbed under the heavy blanket on the bed. There was a scarf draped over a hook on the back of the door, a crumpled shopping list on the nightstand, dusty bottles crowded on top of the dresser. Lydia reached out and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. For good measure, she closed her eyes firmly against it all.

Exhausted and surrounded by ghosts, she finally fell asleep.

***

She woke early the next morning.

Outside, birds tweeted a high pitched song, despite the slow dawn. She braced herself for the cold as she climbed out of bed, but the radiator had done its job, making the room toasty warm. She opened the curtains a crack, but could barely make out the outline of the trees. 

She dressed quickly, sliding on her warmest sweater, and crept downstairs, not wanting to wake Cora too early. She cleaned out the fireplace, then built and lit a fire before heading into the kitchen. 

She used the mug she’d found yesterday, fixing herself a cup of coffee, and drank it out on the balcony. It was cold, the air promising snow, and she cradled the mug to warm her hands as she watched the sun finally rise, filling the sky with pinks and golds and purples. It made the mountains almost painful to look at as the sunshine blazed on them. The snow glistened and the trees whispered as the dawn breeze ruffled them and Lydia blew out a slow breath, just taking it all in.

When she stepped back inside, she heard the thunder of Cora’s feet on the stairs and peered out into the hallway. She was dressed in jogging pants and a sports bra, her hair pinned back slightly out of her face.

“You’re going out like that? It’s _freezing_.”

Cora paused, glancing over her shoulder at Lydia. “I’m a werewolf. We run hot. ‘Sides, the run will warm me up.”

“I thought you were supposed to be my bodyguard,” Lydia couldn’t resist saying, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

“You don’t need a bodyguard.”

Cora said it like it was supposed to be an insult, but Lydia was surprised to realize it was actually kind of a compliment, especially from Cora Hale, who valued the ability to protect oneself pretty highly. Lydia curled her fingers around her mug, trying not to smile.

“And trust me, princess,” Cora added with this wry little smirk. “Nothing will get inside this house.”

She left before Lydia could question that, the door closing behind her. Lydia set her empty mug aside and reached out, touching the walls. If she concentrated, she could feel it: the low, discreet hum of magic.

_Of course_ , she thought. The cabin was spelled. Derek really hadn’t been underestimating when he talked about how safe the place was.

While Cora was gone, she did a little cleaning, freshening the place up a little. When that stopped distracting her, she bundled up and headed outside into the snow. She stayed close to the cabin, not wanting to get lost, but she explored the immediate area, taking in the views. The wind was an icy slap against her face, but it felt good to be outside. 

She’d only been outside for half an hour before a hand suddenly snatched at hers, the leather of her gloves creaking under the strength of Cora’s grip.

“Hey!” she said, startled.

Cora glared at her. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink and her skin shone slightly with sweat, her chest heaving slightly as she caught her breath. Her sports bra exposed her taut belly and toned arms and Lydia had to focus to keep her gaze on Cora’s, a weird feeling flipping her belly into somersaults.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Cora snapped.

Lydia raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. “Walking. Is that a crime?”

“The spell only works when you’re _inside_ the cabin.” Cora kept hold of her hand, tugging her back towards the cabin. “I thought you were supposed to be a fucking genius.”

Lydia grit her teeth at that, yanking her hand back to walk past Cora into the house. Cora had never been fazed by her, at talking down to someone older than her, but Lydia wasn’t about to let her drag her around like a misbehaving _child_.

“I was just _walking_ ,” she said. “I’m bored.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “So read a book or something.”

Lydia yanked off her coat and gloves and dropped down onto the couch. “Great. Because that totally fixes the fact that I’m stuck here with you.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly delighted to be here with you, either.” Cora disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is that my friends are back home, facing off against another pack for my sake,” Lydia snapped. “And I’m stuck here with you. I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, no shit. You can cave skulls in with the force of your scream. And I can break a man’s spine with one hand.” Cora replied evenly. “But here I am.”

“They could get hurt.”

“They just want to keep you safe.”

“I know that, I just…” Lydia trailed off, her anger burning itself out as quickly as it had flared. “I don’t want someone else I love to die trying to save me.”

Cora didn’t need to ask. She quietly moved to sit next to Lydia. She didn’t touch her, or say a word, but her presence was actually kind of comforting. It reminded Lydia that at least right then, in that moment, she wasn’t alone.

“I felt it,” she finally murmured. “It’s still there. Like this…this bleeding wound where I felt Allison die. And I can’t feel that again. I just can’t.”

“They care about you. They _love_ you.” Cora said, tone surprisingly gentle. “That pack is big. They have a lot of numbers and a lot of brute strength on their side.”

“We have a hell beast.”

“Even so,” Cora said, smiling softly. “They want _you_. And they would absolutely hurt you to get what they want from you. We don’t want that and we can’t take the risk. We’re just trying to keep you safe. And you agreed. I mean, no one tied you up and forced you into my car, did they? You chose to go along with it. Why?”

Lydia closed her eyes. “ _Because_ they care about me.”

“Right. You know their hearts are in the right place. You know why I agreed to do this, even though I was pissed that Derek’s forcing me out of the action?” Cora continued before Lydia could reply, “Because honestly, I’m just happy that I still have a brother who loves me enough to not want me to get hurt, even if it means situations like this where I can’t help him fight.”

Lydia fell silent at that. After a moment, she sighed, the fight draining from her body. “I’m sorry.”

Cora shrugged. “And for the record? You’re not _actually_ the worst company in the world.” 

She drained the rest of her water in several gulps, wiped stray droplets from her lips, and offered Lydia a little grin before getting to her feet. She disappeared upstairs and Lydia leaned back on the couch, trying to ignore the sensation in her chest that felt suspiciously like fondness.

***

Lydia spent the rest of the day working on a paper. Cora came downstairs freshly showered and wearing a pale blue cable knit sweater that made her look softer, somehow. She tended to the fire and made fresh coffee, then curled up in the chair with her feet crossed over the arm, a book in her hands.

It was peaceful and surprisingly companionable. When Lydia finished, she tucked her things away and then sat there quietly, watching Cora read. Her brows furrowed slightly as she concentrated, but every now and then her mouth quirked slightly into a small smile at something funny.

It was _cute_.

Eventually, Cora glanced up, catching and holding Lydia’s gaze. After a moment, she smiled properly and closed her book, sitting up properly to stretch.

“Food,” she decided, heading into the kitchen.

She made pasta with sauce from a jar and they ate in front of the fire, sat cross legged on the floor. The flames licked light over Cora’s face as she slurped up a noodle noisily and Lydia smiled to herself, eating her own pasta a little more discreetly.

“Derek called earlier,” Cora said after a moment.

Lydia slid a sharp look over. “Yeah?”

“They caught some scents by your mom’s house. They’ve got pretty much the whole pack out tracking them.”

Lydia nodded. “So hopefully this’ll be over soon.”

“I don’t know,” Cora said. “Being here with you isn’t so bad.”

Lydia tried not to grin at that, just offered a playful shrug and wrapped another bit of pasta around her fork. When they’d both finished eating, Cora reached out to take Lydia’s bowl, stacking it with hers on the coffee table. She moved to get up, but Lydia caught her wrist. Cora looked at her.

“You’ve got a little…” Lydia reached out, using her thumb to wipe away the droplet of sauce on the corner of Cora’s mouth.

Cora went very still, her gaze focused on Lydia with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She started to withdraw her hand, but Cora held her wrist, thumb stroking over Lydia’s pulse point. And then, suddenly, like a cat unfurling to pounce, she surged forward, pressing their lips together.

Lydia’s breath caught, hands sliding instinctively into Cora’s hair as she kissed her back. Cora’s lips were soft, her hands sure as they moved to the small of Lydia’s back, pulling her body tighter against her own. She pulled back slightly, nipped playfully at Lydia’s bottom lip before moving back enough to meet Lydia’s gaze.

And Lydia knew, then, that she was safe in this cabin, ghosts and all. Because Cora would never let anything hurt someone she loves.


End file.
